


Nature of the Beast

by StanfouQueen



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jossed, Torture, Violence, post-ep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StanfouQueen/pseuds/StanfouQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Lewis tore them both apart- that was his nature. Their nature tells them to never give up, but that's not easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have had this idea for a post-finale fic for a while, but had writer's block. This is pretty much Jossed already, but oh well. Hope you like it anyway!  
> Warnings: Graphic violence and torture, mentions of rape/sexual assault. More will be added if needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have had this idea for a post-finale fic for a while, but had writer's block. This is pretty much Jossed already, but oh well. Hope you like it anyway!  
> Warnings: Graphic violence and torture, mentions of rape/sexual assault. More will be added if needed.

It wasn't often that Rafael apologized- to anyone, for any reason. Most of the time, he simply didn't feel that he should be obligated to.

But here he was, on the phone with Olivia, feeling like no amount of apologizing would be enough.

"I'm so sorry, Olivia," he said, clenching his fist around the corner of the desk. "The judge declared a mistrial, and he's out on bail, and... I don't think McCoy's going to let me retry him unless we get some new evidence."

An overwhelming wave of guilt came over him. Olivia and the others had put so much into getting Lewis. Rafael almost always came through for them, but this time, when it mattered more than any of their previous cases, he'd failed.

And the thought of what Olivia's reaction would be was almost worse than the failure itself.

She didn't show much anger to him, though; she just huffed and said, "Great."

An awkward silence fell for a few moments before Rafael said again, "I'm sorry. If we can find anything more on him-"

"We'll get him. I know," Olivia cut in, sounding disheartened.

Rafael sighed, deciding there wasn't any point in continuing their conversation. "See you, Olivia."

"See you," she said before hanging up.

Rafael let out a slow breath and gazed down at his phone. He didn't take his surroundings in; instead, he lost himself in his thoughts.

He had never felt guilt like this when he lost cases in Brooklyn; he would always just shrug it off and vow to win next time. It was only after joining the Sex Crimes bureau that he'd began to feel any attachment to the cases. Or, rather, the people affected by them.

He thought about Alice Parker, and all of Lewis' other victims, past and- potentially- future. He remembered the team telling him about Alice's photography, and he started recreated the scene in his head; the old woman contentedly snapping pictures of Central Park, only to be tortured at Lewis' hands days later, and then dying from a heart attack shortly after that.

And now her torturer, her killer, might never see the inside of a jail cell.

Rafael ground his teeth, then forced himself to calm down with a few deep breaths. It was still so fresh in his mind- he'd never be able to figure anything out with his emotions like this. Once he cleared his head, surely he could find some sort of loophole. Maybe there was some DNA that hadn't been tested that he could have redone, eliminating the worries of cross-contamination. Maybe he could get Jose from Lewis' halfway house to testify against him for burning his hands.

The Bureau Chief for the unit, Mike Cutter, was smart. Between the two of them, there had to be a way they could convince Jack McCoy to let him retry the case.

He looked at the clock and stood, realizing that he could have left a half hour ago. He retrieved his things and headed out the door.

At first, Rafael considered going to a bar, but he ultimately decided to unwind at his apartment. After taking the subway to the closest stop and working his way through the building, he entered his home, stretching his muscles and shrugging his suit jacket off.

He didn't want to think about work, didn't want to think about what the detectives must be feeling at that moment. So instead, he thought about the delicious leftovers from the previous night, and his mouth was watering by the time he came into the kitchen and flicked the light switch on.

A loud noise came from his left side. He jumped and turned towards it just in time to feel something collide with him.

He grunted and struggled to keep his balance, but the other's momentum sent him tumbling to the ground. He blinked up at the solid figure, shock preventing him from registering what had just happened.

"Counselor," a male voice breathed.

Dread settled in Rafael's stomach as he recognized the voice.

He lashed out, but Lewis overpowered him easily. He dragged Rafael to one of the kitchen chairs, then produced a length of rope, and, despite Rafael's struggles, had him tied up to it within minutes.

His heart started pounding. He thought about everything Lewis had done to his victims, and he pushed against the ropes wrapped around his torso, panic overriding any rational thought.

Something hard landed against his head, striking him dumb. When his vision cleared, he noticed the gun Lewis was holding, and he tried to shrink away, but Lewis hit him again.

He stopped struggling. Instead, he started to pray, begging the powers that be for his life. After all, asking Lewis himself would be useless.

"Counselor," Lewis said again. Rafael looked to the side. "Look at me," he snapped. Rafael shook his head.

Big mistake.

Lewis struck the side of his head with the gun once more, making Rafael's vision go black for a moment. His head started pounding, nausea rising up in his stomach.

"Look. At. Me," Lewis hissed. Rafael complied this time, gazing into the face of the last man he wanted to see.

"Now, I don't have much time for you- can't let Detective Benson come home to an empty house," Lewis said. "But I have enough."

 _No_ , Rafael thought desperately. He started struggling against the bonds again, which only made Lewis snicker.

Lewis pulled a lighter out of his pocket, lighting it with a smooth motion. "If only I had more time, I would get a hanger and do this right," he said wistfully. "But this will be enough, don't you think?"

To Rafael's utter disgust, Lewis reached a hand into Rafael's lap and stroked from his thigh to his penis. "Guys don't do much for me, but if it wasn't for her... we could make this work. But," he gave a quick sigh, "We'll have to make due with this. Unless you want to come with me? I bet she'd like some company."

Rafael swallowed hard. He replayed the last half-hour in his head, trying to figure out how it had come to this. None if it added up.

Lewis smiled- not smirked, _smiled_ \- at him and held out one hand for Rafael to see. "I'll take that as a no. Shame. But in that case, we'll have to get started fast. See this?"

Knowing that Lewis was referencing the burned-off fingertips, Rafael nodded, cringing at the pain in his head. He could barely _think,_ it was so intense. That, he knew, was going to hurt his chances of making it out of this alive. And if he didn't make it out of this alive, he wouldn't be able to help Olivia.

Lewis continued speaking, and Rafael returned his attention to him. "It isn't as bad as you'd think. You just gotta _focus._ Think you can do that?" He picked up Rafael's right hand and held the lighter close to it. "How long can you take this before you chicken out?"

Rafael tried to pull away, biting his lip at the uncomfortable heat, but Lewis kept it firmly in place, chuckling softly. "Need some more incentive? How's this?" He held up his gun. "You can stop at any time, but I think a bullet may feel a bit worse, huh?"

The discomfort was turning into pain, and Lewis took Rafael's expression as his cue to move forward. This time, the lighter actually made contact with his skin, and it took all of Rafael's determination not to try to jerk away or cry out. The gun was in clear sight, and he kept remembering Olivia. She didn't know what Lewis had planned for her. He had to get out of this, had to warn her somehow.

The pain faded from his palm, instead becoming concentrated on one fingertip after the other. His thumb, then his pointer and middle fingers. He tried to find something else to focus on besides the blistering pain, but the closest he could get was silently screaming at the pounding in his head. His breath was getting quicker, but he managed to keep quiet.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Lewis said, letting Rafael's arm fall. Rafael shook his head once. "You know, Counselor, I'm getting a little tired of basically talkin' to myself here."

"N-No, it wasn't... that bad," Rafael ground out.

"The next one will be easier, now that you know what to expect," Lewis promised, moving to Rafael's left hand.

Rafael looked away and once again tried to focus on something else, and once again failed. His hands not only burned, but itched as well, creating a maddening sensation. He didn't know what he wanted more; to plunge them in some cold water, or to scratch them.

"Hmm, would you look at that. Still a lot of lighter fluid left. I would've thought you'd have tougher skin than that," Lewis said. Ignoring Rafael's expression- or, Rafael thought, fueled by it- he continued, "Guess we'll have to find something else to use the rest on, hmm?"

Rafael wanted to give some sarcastic remark, but he couldn't think of anything, couldn't do anything but play along. "I guess..."

Lewis turned away. He rummaged in Rafael's drawers for a few minutes before he found a pair of scissors and returned to Rafael. It didn't take long for him to cut away Rafael's shirt, leaving his torso exposed except for where the ropes covered him.

Rafael shivered.

"Same rules apply," Lewis said, flicking the lighter on again. Once again, he brought it to Rafael's skin, this time on his chest. Rafael gasped in pain, unable to control himself any longer.

The flame found its way over the rest of his body, burning his chest, stomach, and legs before returning to his arms. It was obvious that Lewis knew the human body, knew the best places to make a burn hurt worse. He paid special attention to any particularly sensitive areas, as well as any places his skin was creased- the folds on his elbow, behind his knee.

Tears slid down Rafael's face as Lewis carefully burned the soles of his feet, and his cries grew loud enough that Lewis forced a length of duct tape over his mouth to quiet him. He struggled to breathe through his nose. Panic and the tears made it almost impossible, but he managed.

Sometimes Lewis would only keep the lighter in place for a few seconds; other times, he would hold it until they could smell his flesh burning. Rafael almost preferred it that way, because the pain always vanished from those spots. He knew what it meant, but couldn't bring himself to care, not even when he saw the blackened skin.

Later, if he got out of this alive, it would bother him that Lewis was giving him second and third degree burns. But now, he couldn't work up the energy. All he cared about was trying to make the pain stop, and the damaged nerves were the closest he'd gotten since this nightmare had started.

Rafael looked down at his arm, then back at Lewis, wondering how much more he could take. Wondering how much longer he would last before he let Lewis kill him.

Wondering how much longer it would be before he gave up his only chance to help Olivia.

Lewis pressed his thumb into just the wrong spot, the outer edge of one of the worst burns on his left arm. Rafael groaned, clenching his hand into a fist and immediately regretting it when the pain seemed to triple. Tears stung his eyes again and he cried out, the sound muffled and distorted by the tape.

He was struggling for breath again, unable to stop the tears, unable to breathe through his nose. The tape was tight around his mouth, and what little air he could get through wasn't enough.

Lewis waited, completely unaffected. Once Rafael's breathing was under control, he used the last of the flame to burn Rafael's nipples, going slower this time so Rafael wouldn't start crying again. Then, after he checked to make sure the lighter was truly empty, he tossed it to the ground.

 _Please be done_ , Rafael prayed silently. _Please..._

He was too tired, in too much pain to hold on anymore. Not even for Olivia.

Lewis' palm collided with Rafael's cheek. "No passin' out."

"I'm not," he tried to say, but what came out was unintelligible- and still would have been without the duct tape.

He made himself open his eyes, just a little, and look at Lewis.

Or was it Williams?

No, it was Lewis, he told himself. William Lewis.

He shook his head once, trying to clear it, but all he succeeded in doing was exacerbating the throb and making the nausea rise again.

Lewis glanced at the clock and frowned. "Well, I have to get going. That was fun, Counselor- we should do this again sometime. But for now, Detective Benson needs some attention," Lewis said.

Rafael watched him as he made to leave. Thoughts jumped around in his head, too quickly for him to be able to connect them, but his body reached a decision without his input. He found himself struggling to get his arm out from the rope.

Lewis caught him and laughed, returning to his position right above him. "You actually think you're getting out of that?" he snickered. "I must've hit your head harder than I thought." He backhanded Rafael, making him feel like his head was exploding.

Falling back, Rafael breathed slowly and closed his eyes, then opened them again. At that moment, as he looked down and saw Lewis' lower body, the dots connected, and he realized that his legs were tied up looser than his arms. He kicked as far out as he could, landing a hard kick on Lewis' shin.

The feeling of satisfaction ended almost before it had begun.

He felt a hard punch land on his stomach... But it couldn't be an actual punch, he realized, because Lewis' arms weren't in contact with Rafael. One arm was at Lewis' side, and the other was in front of him, hand clenched around the...

_Oh._

The sound of a gunshot finally reached his ears at the same time as the blood started flowing from his stomach. He blinked. He couldn't seem to comprehend anything that had happened after kicking Lewis.

"You're an _idiot_ , you know that?" Lewis snarled.

Rafael didn't make a sound. He watched the wound bleeding, terrified that the lack of pain meant he was going to die after all.

"You know that?" Lewis repeated, striking Rafael's face with the butt of the gun. Rafael cringed, feeling a throb on the bridge of his nose and over his left eye.

And _there_ was the pain from the gunshot wound, making him gasp and all but writhe on the chair.

Lewis growled quietly, almost shaking with rage. He struck him with the gun again and again, hard enough to make his head bleed. He moved lower after that, striking his chest, stomach, anywhere he could reach. Not even the chair falling over stopped him; he simply started kicking instead. Rafael felt ribs crack, felt the agonizing flash when Lewis kicked too close to the gunshot wound. But undoubtedly, that wound was the worst- the throbbing, the burning sensation that was worse than actually being burned, and the pain never let up. At least the others eased, just a little.

Rafael whimpered with each blow, but couldn't find the strength to do much more. He tried to send himself somewhere else, tried to remember the happiest times of his life, but he couldn't focus, couldn't think about anything else before the pain brought him back.

He was barely holding on to consciousness by the time Lewis finished and walked away to grab Rafael's phone. "Someone probably called 911," he said, scowling, as he pressed the buttons.

Rafael distantly heard Lewis saying that he'd seen a raccoon on the fire escape and had panicked. He couldn't hear the response, but judging from Lewis' tone, they believed him, and were only giving him a stern warning about being careful with firearms.

"See you soon, Counselor," Lewis taunted. "All this has made me realize just how valuable a good girl like Benson will be." With that, he strode out of the apartment.

Rafael gave a helpless, protesting groan.

He glanced at the clock, shocked at how little time had passed. An hour. That was all it had taken for Lewis to make pain his entire world, his entire existence. To turn his world upside-down and absolutely wreck it.

And Lewis would have Olivia for _twelve_ hours at least.

And that was how long Rafael would have to hold on. That was how long it was until anyone would know he was missing. He had a court appearance at eight the next morning, and the judge was a stickler for punctuality. She'd demand to know where he was, and once they saw that he wasn't at his office and wasn't answering his phone... they'd find him.

But at this point, Rafael wasn't confident they'd find him _alive_.

He looked at the quickly-forming puddle of blood and felt his heart hammer.

He'd try to survive, for Olivia, for himself, but he was only human. He could only lose so much blood, and after twelve hours in his condition, it was almost certain he'd lose too much.

Another wave of pain overcame him, making him clench his muscles in protest.

No, he thought, he wasn't getting out of this without divine intervention.

He closed his eyes and silently begged for just that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, that took forever. Way longer than I wanted it to. But here we are! Here you are, reading an update, and here I am, being an evil bitch as always. :)
> 
> This chapter's short, but it gets the job done, so I'm leaving it. Hope you guys are still interested in this story!

For an indeterminate length of time, Rafael simply lay where he had fallen. Sometimes he prayed. Sometimes he panicked. Sometimes he cried silently as waves of despair crested and crashed over him.

Sometimes he passed out, waking up seconds or hours later. The sky gradually darkened. He passed out again after it had finally turned pitch black, and it was much lighter by the time he woke again.

But he barely paid attention to his surroundings. He just fought to breathe. A while after the sky started lightening again, his stomach churned and he finally vomited. Then breathing became even harder, as every breath required careful effort. He couldn't swallow- it would go in his lungs. He couldn't choke. So he had to focus on breathing through his nose, which was nearly impossible with his mouth full of acidic vomit.

He lost his sense of time, all meaning of everything. He lay there, panting, gasping, groaning, desperate to survive but even more desperate for an end to the pain. Moving hurt. Not moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Not breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. Existing hurt. But he had to keep thinking to keep existing and he had to keep existing to stay alive, so he did it, fighting against the pain.

He knew that no matter how much agony he felt, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't allow himself to lose consciousness again. If he did, he would never wake up. He'd choke to death on his own vomit. That made him think of Alexandra Borgia from the Manhattan homicide unit. He'd never met her, but he'd heard about her gruesome death. All the New York City prosecutors had. He wondered if they'd feel that outrage and grief for him. Would Jack McCoy try Lewis personally? Or would his case be assigned to a more partial prosecutor, maybe someone from Queens? Rafael thought he'd prefer Jack- he wanted someone who would be livid at his death. But he also thought maybe Jack's rage might turn the jury off. It might make him attack Lewis on the stand, and Lewis was one charming man. He knew how to play people. Rafael wanted Lewis to go to jail for the rest of his life for killing him and whatever he was about to do to Olivia.

Oh, Olivia. He knew what she'd say: he wasn't dead yet. He could still fight. If he could survive this, he could survive anything. So many people needed him; he had to hold on for them, if not himself. Olivia needed him too. But she wouldn't say that because she didn't know. He wished he could call her. But if he could call her, he wouldn't be in this situation anyway, so he wouldn't need to. He laughed to himself. It was fun to think in circles. If he could call, he wouldn't need to call. If he didn't need to call, he wouldn't be here. But he was. So he needed to call her. But he couldn't because he was tied up. Why had Lewis kept him tied up? He'd already shot him. Rafael wasn't going anywhere anyway. Maybe Lewis had forgotten. Lucky. He wished he could forget. But he couldn't. It still hurt like hell. Hell. Satan. Beast. Lewis. Was Lewis a demon? It would explain his almost supernatural luck, his sadism. He imagined Lewis with devil horns and almost laughed aloud before remembering the vomit. Damn Lewis.

If Lewis was a demon, he was probably warm. Lucky. Rafael was freezing. He hoped Olivia punched Lewis when she saw him. Punched him and dumped ice on him. That would serve him right. If Lewis was a demon, maybe the ice would hurt Lewis as much as this gunshot wound was hurting Rafael. Maybe Olivia should freeze some holy water to make absolute sure it hurt. No pain medicine on Earth would fix that. Lewis could burn his own fingertips without pain but holy water- ice- icy holy water- he couldn't fight that. But he didn't think Olivia would have any anyway. She didn't go to church. He wondered if he could persuade her to go with him sometime, if he survived. Or maybe he could be her angel. He didn't want to be an angel though; he didn't want wings. He was afraid of heights. He didn't want to fall. Didn't want to fall, didn't want to let Lewis catch him. Maybe wings would be good after all, then. Wings would let him fly away. But demons could probably fly too. That was where the holy water would come in. He'd have a lot of it if he became an angel.

He blinked. A haze seemed to have come over his apartment. Blink blink. Blink. Blink. Still there. So was the vomit and the gag and the restraints. But the dark wasn't. The sun had climbed in through his window. It stopped just short of his face, like it was shy and didn't want to say hello. Don't be shy, he thought. You're warm. I'm not.

Oh, he was so tired. He wished Lewis had left him a blanket. Then he'd be warm and he could sleep. He closed his eyes. He begged himself for sleep, but didn't receive it. Just more pain. As always. Thinking sure hurt. But he couldn't stop it.

"Rafael?"

He opened his eyes again. But no one was there but the sun. But he'd heard his abuelita's voice. Maybe the sun had used it. Maybe the sun wasn't shy anymore. He hoped so. He was still so cold. The least Lewis could have done was turn up the heat first, but he hadn't.

The sun reached out and brushed over his fingertips. He smiled around his gag. So warm. So yellow. So happy. It couldn't just be the sun, it had to be Abuelita too, because she had always been so happy and the sun had never made him feel like this before. So light and fuzzy and warm inside, like a sweater. He never wore sweaters though. Not fashionable enough. Screw fashion. No, he couldn't go that far. He loved the colors. Red and blue and pink, lots of pink. Like Abuelita. Pink and Abuelita and sunshine and plantains and dancing. He had two left feet but Abuelita had two strong arms, so she could bounce him around. Dancing and happy fast music that made his heart smile. And Olivia. She didn't smile enough. Abuelita would make her smile. She'd bring the sun to her and dance with her. And those fried plantains.

The sun hopped on his face. He liked the heat but not the light, not in his eyes like that. He squeezed them shut. Don't look at the sun, Rafael, his abuelita had scolded. But I want to see it, he'd protested. He didn't anymore. He wanted sunglasses. Or curtains. Or a blanket and pillow. His old worn mattress where Mama always read to him, stories about pirates and adventures. He always preferred stories about magic. But he'd never told Mama that. She seemed to like the pirate ones and he didn't want her to think he didn't like them. Then she'd go read to Carmen or Sofia or Samuel instead. He hated being the oldest.

He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He was just so so tired. It was like when he had stayed up late with Eddie and Alex and Marisol had had to carry him to bed. Alex had started to laugh, but she'd scolded him. He hadn't seen Eddie, hadn't seen any of the Garcias in so long. Muñozes too. Yelina shouldn't be a Muñoz. Barba was so much better. Even her maiden name was better than Muñoz. He'd said he was happy for Alex but he wasn't, he was mad. He'd loved her and Alex had stolen that. Alex always got the best of everything. He liked Alex but God did he hate him. Alex was probably warm right now, like Lewis. They could be demons together. Alex had taken Yelina and Lewis had taken- was taking- everything else. Him. Olivia. He didn't want to die. He didn't want Olivia to get raped. She'd cry. He didn't want her to cry. He wanted her to smile. Like Yelina had smiled when he'd kissed her. But not like she'd smiled on her wedding day when she'd asked Rafael what he thought of her dress. Why, he'd asked, why ask me? And she'd said he knew Alex, knew what he'd like because they had the same taste anyway. And besides, he was Best Man, it was his job to do these things. He'd laughed and said she looked beautiful, of course, what else could she be? He'd laughed bitterness that he didn't think she heard because she was so happy. Then he'd walked into an empty room and laughed tears and rage and betrayal.

Olivia wouldn't smile like that. She'd smile a getting invited for dinner smile. A laughter smile. A sunshine smile. Not a running off with Rafael's best friend smile. Not a stealing Rafael's would-be-fiancé smile. Not a crushing Rafael's heart in a vise smile. Not a burning Rafael with a lighter, shooting him, and then hurrying away to rape and murder his best friend smile. No, it would be a smiley smile. It would stroke his face and warm him up like the sun. He hadn't realized how much he loved the sun until now. It was warm and friendly and happy and just a little shy still. But it liked him. It was even helping him relax so he could sleep, how nice was that? He felt so full and happy. Like Abuelita. Like dancing. Like sunshine.

He remembered Abuelita showing him butterflies on his eighth birthday. She'd put a plastic one on his slice of cake and that night he'd dreamed about bright butterflies of all colors carrying him to the sky. He'd been scared of falling, as always, but they'd made a thick carpet for him that he couldn't fall off of. He wanted that dream again. Maybe the sun and Abuelita would give it to him. His birthday was soon, after all. He wanted those butterflies for his birthday more than he wanted another book or paisley tie. Not that he'd say no to anything. If he got anything for his birthday that meant he'd be alive. Which he wanted, still. Maybe. Maybe not if he had Abuelita and Olivia to keep him company. He probably shouldn't think that. Too late.

Maybe he should live. He didn't hurt that much anymore. He felt light and so happy. No more Lewis-pain here. Maybe the sun had washed the burns off. It had definitely dried the blood. Except the puddle right under him. That was still wet and sticky.

Puddles. Rain. Water. Holy water. Demons. Lewis. Olivia. Don't hurt her, Lewis, you already have me. I'm enough, aren't I? Probably not.

His phone was ringing. Like an alarm clock, but he was falling asleep, not waking up. Or he would be if the phone wasn't so loud. How rude of them, whoever it was.

He waited for the ringing to stop and then let his eyes drift closed. He didn't fall asleep, but stayed in some sort of limbo between sleep and wakefulness. He was aware of himself, barely, but not the world around him. His breath slowed, his heart slowed. He felt it wiggling feebly in his chest. It didn't feel all that good but he didn't really care. He just wanted to sleep. He was so very tired.

Rafael didn't hear the knocking on his door. He didn't hear the detectives opening the door. He certainly didn't hear them come his way. He had no idea he wasn't alone until his restraints were finally cut and two strong hands rolled him over. They took out the gag, which finally, at last, allowed the vomit to drain from his mouth.

He blinked up at them. Nick, Amanda, Fin, Captain Cragen.

He licked his lips, but his tongue was even drier. Not that he'd be able to talk, anyway.

Amanda knelt next to him, pulling his arm towards her and setting her thumb on his wrist. She bit her lip and looked up at the others, mouthing something he couldn't understand. Telling them he was cold, probably. He hoped. If they got him a blanket, he could finally sleep.

He tried to mouth something of his own. _Olivia_. That got Amanda's attention. She said the name aloud and he nodded. He didn't follow what happened for a few seconds after that because the motion made blackness dot his vision.

When he was aware again, Nick and Amanda were hurrying away, while Fin and Cragen were tending to him. Fin pressed two hands on the gunshot wound, which was still bleeding sluggishly. He wanted to swat his hands away, but didn't have the strength. That annoyed him. So did the fact that both of them kept shaking his shoulder when he closed his eyes. It hurt, and it was irritating. He wanted to sleep.

His eyelids started to feel like magnets. So hard to pry apart, so easy to slide together. Fin and Cragen were still trying to rouse him but Rafael wasn't fighting to survive anymore. He'd told them about Olivia. Whether she lived or not was out of his hands. He'd done everything he needed; he'd earned some rest.

He didn't care if he woke up. Sleeping forever actually sounded nice. No more shivering.

His friendly rays of sunshine were still bouncing on his face. Maybe he wouldn't have Olivia, but he would have Abuelita again.

He lapsed into unconsciousness just as the EMTs arrived at his side.


	3. Chapter 3

_He was four years old, and completely lost. Running frantically around his new home, he didn't even realize he was going in circles. He passed the same run-down buildings and withering tress, growing ever more panicked, voice raising in pitch as fright consumed him. "Mama? Papa?!"_

_It felt like days to him, but was in truth only a half hour before he finally gave up and stopped by the courtyard. He'd just wanted to play on the swings! If he couldn't find his home… He looked around and a horrifying realization dawned on him: what if he had to live on the playground?_

_At that, he threw himself to the ground, bursting into tears. Giant cries racked his small body, and soon another boy found his way to him. "Qué pasa?" the new boy asked._

_Rafael sniffled and wiped his nose, trying to get his breathing under control enough to reply. He hiccupped. "Mi mama y papa! Estoy perdido!"_

_Switching to English, the boy sat next to him and said, "It'll be okay! I'll help you find them. I've lived here forever!"_

_"Really?" Rafael asked, sniffling again._

_"Really!" the new boy promised. "Come on! Where do you live?"_

_"Here!" Rafael replied, gesturing around._

_"I know you live here! First floor or higher?"_

_"Way high! So high you'd be a speck! Like dust!" Rafael told him._

_The other boy brightened. "There's only one new house that high! Come on!" He pulled Rafael's arm and started walking._

_Soon they were walking toward a refreshingly familiar part of the building and Rafael felt his spirits soar. "This is it! This is where my new house is! This way!"_

_Soon he was back with his mama and papa, boasting about how he'd been lost for days but found his way back with a new friend. Before he began to help arrange his new room, he told his new friend goodbye._

_"Oh! Mama told me to ask you, what's your name?" he asked hurriedly before his friend started to leave._

_"Alex! You?" Alex replied._

_"Rafael!" he said._

_"See you tomorrow, Rafael!" Alex said and waved._

_"Bye!" Rafael said. Smiling, he headed back to his parents._

_He was six, and he felt safer than he ever had before even though he was being threatened._

_Eddie had stood between him and a gang of older boys from P.S. 109 while they stealing his money, getting them to back off. He'd wrapped one arm around Rafael's shaky shoulders and stayed with him every step of the way to their school, promising that he and Alex would get him lunch and would find a way to stop the bullies._

_At lunchtime, when Eddie and Rafael told Alex what had been happening, Alex divided up his and Eddie's lunches, protesting, "Why didn't you tell us, Rafi?" as he did so. Rafael had gone hungry the last week, but had refused to say what was going on until Eddie had witnessed it himself._

_He slowly chewed Eddie's rice and said, "They said they'd beat me up if I told anyone."_

_"Well, I'm gonna beat them up!" Eddie declared._

_"Eddie, no, you'll get in trouble," Rafael said softly, shaking his head._

_"So?" Eddie asked. "You're my brother! I won't let them pick on you."_

_Rafael smiled and looked down at his food. "Thanks, guys," he said. Something in him knew that even though the gang probably would never stop trying to take his money, they wouldn't succeed again as long as Eddie was around. He was safe, cared for, and protected._

_He was seven and crying to his grandmother. "Abuelita, why doesn't she think I can be mayor? Doesn't she love me?"_

_His abuela picked him up and rocked him slowly. "I don't know, Rafael. She does love you."_

_"Then why doesn't she think I can do it? I'm smart, you said so!" Rafael argued._

_"You **are** smart, Rafaelito. Tu mama… she's just…" She sighed softly. "She's tired. She doesn't think any of you will ever make it out of the barrio."_

_"She said Alex would," Rafael sniffled._

_"I know. I know." Exhaling slowly, she stroked his hair. "She loves you, mi tesoro."_

_"No she doesn't," Rafael said, hiding his face in her neck. "She loves Alex more."_

_"She does not, Rafael, stop it!" she protested. "But even if she did… you know what? You have me. I will love you always. And I don't love Alex or Eddie more; I love my sweet Rafael who shares his cookies with me."_

_Giggling, he wrapped his arms around her and murmured, "Te quiero, Abuelita."_

_"Te quiero, Rafaelito."_

_He was fifteen and about to give up._

_He had his dropout forms in hand. All he had to do was give them to his advisor and then he could leave for good. He'd get a job to support his little brothers and sisters. Ever since his father had been killed in a shootout he wasn't even a part of, his mother had barely been keeping their heads above the water. So as the oldest kid, it was on him to help out now. He'd never leave the barrio; he had finally resigned himself. He, Eddie, and Alex were starting to joke about what part of the Projects they'd raise their own families in. Eddie and Alex wanted the same area they'd grown up in, but on the middle floors, reasoning that those had plenty of bedrooms for the inevitable horde of babies. Rafael wanted the building down the street, which was smaller but had a better playground and was the turf of a far less violent gang than the one that owned their current home._

_He walked in to the counselor's office before class started and said, "I'm done."_

_The woman, Mrs. Ramirez, looked over the papers he handed her. Looking up at him, she said, "You're dropping out?"_

_He nodded, making her frown. She gazed at him for a long moment, then, shaking her head, pulled out a pair of scissors. "Rafael, I have never said this to any student before; I won't let you do this. If you need help, I'll get it for you- but I will not allow you to drop out. You are the brightest student in your class, and one of the only ones I have hope for. Do you realize that out of your 200 classmates, you are one of only five who reads above your grade level?"_

_Rafael swallowed and looked down. "Yes," he said softly. "But I have to do this. My family needs the money."_

_"I'll help you get a job here after school. You can help clean the classrooms, organize the library, help me with things. But I won't let you drop out; I won't let you lose your only ticket out of here. You could **make it** , Rafael." And with that, she took the scissors to the papers, cutting them into tiny scraps and brushing them into the wastebasket. Then she pulled out a new set of papers._

_For the first time in years, Rafael began to think he had a true future. Not just leaving the barrio, but something great. Silently, he vowed to himself and Mrs. Ramirez that he would make her proud someday. He would get out of here and make something of himself._

_He was twenty, and he was in love. More in love than he ever had been, even with Lauren Sullivan._

_Yelina was, quite simply, a goddess taking to human form. He watched her laugh with her friends on the street corner, smiled nervously when he bumped into her at the library, felt his heart flutter and almost stop entirely when she danced at a mutual friend's birthday party._

_It was summer, and he was back in New York for the break. He'd met Yelina his first day back at the bodega he'd gotten a summer job at, and he had been consumed ever since._

_"For God's sake, Rafi, if you don't talk to her, I am going to kick your ass," Eddie grumbled._

_Rafael swallowed. "I just, if I, if I don't do it right-"_

_"Rafael, come on. Just ask her!" Alex said._

_Compelled somehow, Rafael said, "Alright, alright."_

_His opportunity came days later in the bodega. An angry, drunken man was berating him, insisting he'd been overcharged._

_"Oye! Leave him alone!" Yelina finally barked. "Either get your stuff or don't, but I've got a pregnant sister-in-law who will kill me if she doesn't have this chocolate in two minutes!"_

_"Hey, princess, I'll tell you what," the man slurred. "I'll leave if you leave wif me."_

_"No. Out," Yelina said. The fierce look on her face had even Rafael afraid, and he was the one being protected. The man, of course, obeyed._

_"Here, this is on me," Rafael said, grabbing the chocolate and starting to enter a code on the register. "When's she due?"_

_"Next month," Yelina answered. "But I insist on paying for the chocolate."_

_"Why? It's no problem," Rafael argued._

_"Maybe not," Yelina told him, moving closer and leaning over the counter, "But I don't want to use my thank-you on a chocolate bar."_

_"Oh? What would you like instead?" Rafael asked, matching her movements even though his heart was pounding._

_"Dinner," Yelina said. "Tonight when you get off work."_

_"I'll see what I can do," Rafael said, smiling._

_He was twenty-two, and his heart was broken._

_Yelina leaving him was bad enough. Yelina leaving him when he had just started planning to propose to her was worse. Yelina leaving him for Alex, when he had told Alex just a few weeks ago how he was sure she was the one? Unbearable._

_He fought in vain to slow the tears. Eddie wrapped one arm around him, pulling him close, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Rafi. She's an idiot."_

_"Alex isn't a bad catch, though," Rafael said tearfully._

_"Maybe not, but I'm not happy with him either." Eddie scowled. "He knew better."_

_"He did!" Rafael fumed. "How could he…"_

_"I don't know, Rafi," Eddie murmured. "He's changed a lot since he went to Fordham. I don't like it."_

_Nodding in agreement, Rafael rested his head on Eddie's shoulder, rubbing at his burning eyes._

_He was twenty-four, at another wedding, and though he was Best Man, he wanted nothing more than to hide._

_Yelina, the woman who had come to his rescue in the bodega and told him he was the most perfect man she'd ever met, marrying his oldest friend. He couldn't do it. Couldn't bear it._

_But Eddie, himself a groomsman, encouraged him. Gave him the strength he needed. It still hurt just to look at them but, as Eddie had pointed out, Alex was still their brother. They couldn't abandon him._

_He made it through the ceremony and reception, somehow. Made it through Alex and Yelina's dance. Pretended to be full of joy when he read his speech for Alex. The only concession he made to his betrayal, his anger and depression, was plowing through the champagne._

_As the night drew to a close, Eddie guided him to his mother's apartment, looking worried. Repeating over and over again that this wasn't worth getting depressed over, that there was someone out there for him. He was out of the barrio now, unlike him and Alex, and had everything going for him. He wouldn't have to raise his future children in the Projects like them._

_Rafael didn't want "a wife", a general term that could have meant any woman. He wanted Yelina._

_"Eddie?" he finally murmured as Eddie began to lay the pillows and blankets on the sofa. "If I get married…" He couldn't articulate his thoughts, couldn't find words for the pictures in his head. "If I get married, you're the Best Man. Not Alex."_

_Eddie smiled faintly. "Okay, Rafi. And you're my Best Man too."_

_"Not Alex?" Rafael asked. It was the first time he'd let his insecurities slip through around Eddie, and he knew it was startling to him._

_But for his part, Eddie rushed to reassure him. "Not Alex. You're both my brothers, but… you asked first."_

_Laughing weakly, Rafael pulled Eddie into a clumsy hug. "I did."_

_"Rafi…"_

_"Eddie," he replied._

_"Rafi? Come on, Rafi, wake up. You have to wake up, hermanito, come on…"_

_"Eddie…"_

"Eddie… Eddie, I don't… that's your pillow, I've got plenty… M'wake, le' me alone…"

Rafael opened his bleary eyes and looked around, disoriented. This wasn't Eddie's living room, it wasn't his apartment, it wasn't even Alex and Yelina's or his parents'.

"Dónde…" His throat felt dry and harsh, which made his voice painfully hoarse. The effort of speaking made him cough weakly, feeling a tickling in his throat. He winced, grasping his stomach as a sharp pain spiked.

"Rafi, look at me," he heard Eddie say, voice low with fear. He looked around and found Eddie on his left.

"H... Hey…" he rasped, slumping against the pillows. "W-why am I in the hospital?"

"Do you remember what happened?" Eddie asked, setting a hand on Rafael's shoulder. Rafael gasped in pain, twisting away. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Rafi, I didn't know-"

"Lewis!" he gasped out. "He, he- no, Olivia!" He struggled to push himself up, only succeeded with the help of the rails, and even when he accomplished that, the pain made blackness erupt in his vision. "No, have to- I have to stop him," he moaned. "Eddie, you have to help me, I gotta stop him, he'll kill her, he-"

"Rafi!" Eddie said, pushing on his chest to ease him back. "Lie down, hermanito, save your strength. She's okay. More okay than you."

Rafael found himself on his back, panting for breath. "Yeah?" he whispered. "They found her?"

"Si, Rafi," Eddie said softly.

"How was she? Did he- oh God, did he ra-"

"No," Eddie interrupted. "He roughed her up. Tortured her. He was about to… about to rape her when they got there- he had her shirt off. She's in a bad way, but alive and not as bad off as you."

"And Lewis?" he asked.

"They arrested the bastard. He's at Riker's," Eddie seethed. "Might just put a word in to the guys when I get back…"

Rafael pressed one hand to the aching, stinging bullet wound on his stomach and nodded once. He tried not to show just how much pain he was in, but his face betrayed him.

"Here," Eddie told him, showing him a button by his IV. "They hooked you up to this. You just gotta press the button and you'll get more morphine. That way they don't gotta come here every time."

"Good," Rafael said faintly. He pressed it and quickly felt the medicine take hold. "I'm tired…"

"Go back to sleep, Rafito," Eddie murmured, stroking his forehead. "I'll be here."

Rafael made himself open his eyes. "Promise?" he asked, unable to hide his fear and vulnerability.

"I promise, mi hermanito," Eddie whispered, running his thumb over Rafael's eyebrows like both his mother and Rafael's had done for him when he was younger, to help him sleep. "You're safe as long as you got me, remember?"

"This is a bit… different… than the bullies…" Rafael said slowly, struggling to find his thoughts in the thick fog clouding his head.

"It don't matter. If someone tries to hurt you, I'll make 'em regret it," Eddie vowed.

Rafael smiled weakly at his brother and then let his eyes drift closed. Before he could say another word, he was sleeping deeply.

He was in and out of consciousness over the next day, rarely long enough to have a full conversation with anyone there. He only ever had time to ask how long he'd been out and sometimes gather small details about Lewis' assault on Olivia.

Lewis was indeed in Riker's. Olivia was in this same hospital as Rafael, with a broken collarbone and countless cigarette burns, but as Eddie had said, faring far better than him. Rafael's own condition was grave due to the stomach wound, which had become infected by the time the squad had arrived. He was in the ICU, being flooded with a dozen different types of intravenous medications, while Olivia was mostly being kept for observation.

He didn't mind. Even if he died, he wouldn't mind. She was safe.

He wasn't sure Eddie saw it that way, though, with the way Eddie urged him to hold on every time he came by. Rafael decided to fight, for Eddie if not for himself. It was a hard battle, bringing endless pain and fear, but he soldiered on.

The next day, he began to stay awake longer and his consciousness cleared slightly. Though it was a small step, most of the doctors and his loved ones seemed to take it as a sign he would survive after all, no matter how difficult his recovery was to be.

Now that he could focus, he realized that someone was missing. Eddie had barely left his side; Alex and Yelina had swung by, though unable to stay long because of their busy days working on his long-time-coming mayoral campaign. His mother came twice a day, kissing his warm forehead every time she arrived and left, as did his brothers and sisters. The squad checked in on the fifth day, courteously giving his family time to visit first… but Olivia, despite having been discharged after one night, wasn't with them.

He asked every time he woke; asked Eddie if he could find her, asked the team to make some calls, asked his family to call the team to call Olivia. He needed to see her. Needed to see that she was alive and as well as possible.

Needed to see that she forgave him.

But she never came. After a week and a half, he finally stopped asking; almost stopped talking at all. He retreated to his own dark thoughts, which flowed freely. Between those thoughts, Olivia's abandonment, and his fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep, he had no shortage of them.

When he finally heard Olivia talking to Nick on the phone, plainly refusing to come, he became sullen and withdrawn. Only Eddie could get him to as much as smile. He retreated deeper and deeper into himself, letting the bitterness consume his existence.

Lewis had turned his world upside-down, and now…

Olivia didn't forgive him. He'd fought Lewis off as hard as he could, endured all this agony when it would have been so easy to slip away, but she still hated him for letting this happen to her.

And he understood, because he hated him for letting this happen to her too.


End file.
